


Linear

by rains



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, M/M, Olympics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:07:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29967519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rains/pseuds/rains
Summary: It occurs to Hajime then that nothing could have prepared him for this—for the single most important person in his life finally achieving the one thing Hajime prayed he would.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 4
Kudos: 121





	Linear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackadlers](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=blackadlers).



> dedicated to linnea. happy birthday, angel ♥

_ “It’s like they grow exponentially. It’s—it’s like no matter what I do, I can never catch up. They’re not just ahead of me, Iwa-chan. They develop differently, too.” _

Hajime smiles to himself at the memory—Oikawa Tooru, towering at six feet tall, but eyes big and brown and child-like, catching more light than usual from being glossed with tears. In this memory, his best friend threw his last ever tantrum, in his last day as a student of Aoba Johsai. 

In this memory, Tooru was still a boy—an accumulation of youth and achievements and insecurities. 

_ “And?” Hajime had said back then, knowing there was more to come. Despite the fretful lilt in his voice, there was conviction there. One which formulates a sense of finality. _

_ “I’m going to beat them,” Tooru said, threading together familiar words in an unfamiliar tone. His eyes still shone, but they had little to do with the ceasing tears. “I really mean it, Iwa-chan. I’m going to beat them, and that little orange shrimp, too, for good measure,” he paused, sitting up on his futon. He looked at Hajime, gaze calculative. Then, “And, you. I’m also going to beat you.” _

Hajime doesn’t remember how he responded back then, but knowing himself he probably accepted the challenge and bit back with a sarcastic remark. 

Something swells in his chest at present time. The introductory Spanish courses he took back in Irvine allows him to pick up on enough of the words being spoken by the Argentinian news anchor for him to paint a clear image in his head. The national volleyball team will be flying off to Japan for the Olympics today, and Hajime is waiting eagerly for a glimpse of Tooru on the screen. 

There’s a clamor of fans and journalists around the team’s bus. Banners and microphones alike are thrust their way and the security team clears a path for them to walk on. 

Hajime recognizes all the members. He had gone over them a month ago with the Japanese national team, after all. There’s Juan, the captain, and Tomas, the libero. There’s Mateo, one of the opposite hitters and—

Hajime labels the presence in his chest as pride, but then the fluttering against his ribs makes it feel like something else entirely. 

Tooru exits the bus languidly. Despite the blue tint of the camera, he appears tan, golden, like he’s the one bathing the sun in warmth instead of the other way around. Endless hours of work are etched onto his muscles, and he stands tall in a way that has to do with more than just a natural increase in height. 

The camera zooms in on him, and the news anchor says something about a team and a lost chance. There are two things he could be referring to:

  1. Oikawa Tooru lost the chance to play for his (previous) home’s team.
  2. His (previous) home team lost their chance to have him play for them.



⁂

The answer becomes easily apparent.

Oikawa’s serves bring with them fear and desolation. His sets bring with them a hypnotizing tune. Japan loses in straight sets.

Hajime’s chest quivers from the blast of cheers that easily made up for the silence of the Japanese crowd when Argentina’s last point was scored. His teammates trudge off the court and gather around to listen to their coach’s final words. 

“We held them off well,” he says. And it’s true. Every single set ended with a deuce. 

After the team disbands to leave for the locker room, Wakatoshi approaches Hajime.

When he doesn’t say anything, Hajime speaks. “Hey. Can I get you anything?”

Wakatoshi shakes his head and sits down on the bench beside him. “Have you spoken to him yet?”

“To Oikawa?”

“Yes.”

“Not since he boarded his flight, no. Why do you ask?”

“It’s interesting,” Wakatoshi states, stretching his legs. “The same amount of time passed for the both of us since high school, but it feels like he managed to grow in more ways than I did.” 

Hajime looks over to the other side of the court, where the Argentinian team is starting to disperse. Tooru catches his gaze and winks. The taunting nature only makes the athletic trainer smile fondly. 

“I think he managed to grow a bit more than all of us.”

⁂

That night, Hajime meets Tooru at the Olympic Village cafeteria. 

“Hey. stranger,” Tooru grins, setting his tray down on the spot beside Hajime. The area is mostly empty, save for a few athletes who came in for a late-night snack, much like him.

“Hey,” Hajime greets back. “Can’t sleep?”

“Haven’t tried.” The setter begins to pick out the pomegranates from his fruit salad to put them on Hajime’s instead. “I couldn’t see you earlier since you’re too busy for me now and when I went to your team’s side of the village to find you, Shoyou said you’d be here.”

“I’m not too busy for you,” he’s quick to defend himself. His falters, though. “Does it really seem that way?”

Tooru’s eyes soften, lips stretching into a gentle smile. In the gold of the overhead lights, he manages to glow a calm blue. 

“Of course not,” he chuckles and the sound filters into every part of Hajime’s body that has ever made him feel something. “But I did miss you. I hate that this is the first time I’m seeing you after coming to Japan.”

With instinct that remained with him across oceans and through years, Hajime leans forward. When he sees the alarm in Tooru’s eyes, he realizes where they are and makes a show of straightening his posture. The younger boy laughs. He scoots closer to Hajime, pressing their knees together. 

Tooru smells like citrus. It drenches Hajime with warmth.

“I missed you too, Tooru,” he says when his actions can’t be used to convey the message. “How was dinner?”

“Great. My teammates really liked the restaurant you suggested. We’re going again if we win our next match.”

Hajime keeps his chopsticks on his plate and places his hand on Tooru’s thigh. He rubs a gentle thumb over the soft material of his sweatpants. “If we win our next match, let me take you there.”

“With the whole team?” his companion raises an eyebrow.

“No. Just us. Or, we can go to another place I found since you tried this one already.” 

“And if you guys lose?”

“Then _you_ can take me there to comfort me.”

Tooru’s shoulders shake with laughter. “Deal." He places a hand on top of Hajime’s. "Now, tell me. What were you and Ushiwaka talking about earlier?”

“Watching, were you?” the trainer smirks. He flips his hand and weaves their fingers together.

The brunet clicks his tongue but still finds the time to tighten his hold on Hajime’s hand. Petulantly, he demands, “Tell me!”

Hajime can’t help but chuckle, sound low and sweet and fond. He grants himself a second to memorize the way Tooru looks right now—taller, more mature, yet so, so familiar. 

“He said that ever since high school you managed to grow in more ways than he did,” he finally answers, keeping his eyes alert to gauge any reaction. 

Tooru simply drinks in the words and exhales. Hajime can’t read his expression. There is nothing to read.

“What did you say?”

“I agreed.”

Tooru takes Hajime’s hand with both of his now, fiddling with his sturdy fingers like he always would during bus rides home. He speaks after a long pause.

“I agree, too. I felt so empty after leaving Japan and for the longest time I thought it was only because I left behind you and my family. Over time I realized a lot of that emptiness was just me feeling lighter.”

“Lighter?”

“Hmm. It’s like… I carried around the weight of Tobio and Ushiwaka for so long, readjusting my ambitions helped me shed all of it. I should’ve been relieved right from the get-go, but I only noticed when I found myself running faster without all that extra baggage.” Tooru stops playing with Hajime’s fingers and encloses his own hands around them. “I said all those things about exponential growths and larger potentials when I didn’t even give myself the chance to move as fast as I could. And once I finally let go of all that, my body just kinda—” he uses one hand to cut through the air— “moved on its own to make up for all those wasted years.”

Hajime catches Tooru’s free hand with his. His chest feels like it’s about to burst. “So, you can grow exponentially too, then,”

Grinning, the boy shakes his head. “No, but I might have severely underestimated the speed of my linear growth.”

Hajime looks around the room. Two staff members are cleaning up the leftover displayed food, ready to close for the night. A pair of athletes sit four tables away from them, chattering amongst themselves. On the opposite end of the dining hall, a group of four men make their way out. 

Deciding it’s safe, Hajime leans forward to peck Tooru on the lips. It leaves him still with shock, eyes wide and brows furrowed as he silently reprimands the offender.

“I’m so proud of you,” he states. 

“I know you are,” Tooru mumbles. He casts a careful glance towards the athletes four tables away before returning Hajime’s kiss with one of his own. “You’re proud of me no matter what.”

“Now you’re just getting cocky,” Hajime says good-naturedly. 

“It’s true, though. You were smiling every time we won a set earlier today. It wasn’t obvious but I could tell.”

“Of course you could.”

Tooru simpers. One of the workers turns off the lights above some of the unoccupied areas. The hall turns ochre, but Oikawa Tooru is blinding still. 

“Mhmm. One of the most gratifying parts of coming this far is being able to see you looking so proud of me.”

The words ring in Hajime’s ears until they melt into lava and course through his veins. He decides to mask it with playfulness. “But you said I’d be proud of you no matter what you did.”

Tooru doesn’t budge and Hajime can’t tell what exactly it was that rendered him so honest all of a sudden. He wishes he could have prepared himself for it. Right now, all he can do is pray his skin doesn’t tear from the rhythm being played against his chest.

“But nothing would make you more proud than seeing me be proud of myself, too.”

The athletic trainer wills himself to look away. He can’t bear the weight of Tooru’s countenance, especially not with his sincerity woven into it. He blinks away any dampness that appears before meeting Tooru’s eyes again. 

Big, brown, and shining with the insistence of a thousand suns. It occurs to Hajime then that nothing could have prepared him for this—for the single most important person in his life finally achieving the one thing Hajime prayed he would. 

“You made it," he breathes.

And they both smile because it’s true.

“I made it.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> this was a mess and a half, but i simply could not live with myself if i didn't write you something for your birthday. i am always rooting for you, lin, and i hope there comes a day where you realize the tremendous extent of your potential and let yourself bloom. i love you so much. thank you for existing. here's to you!


End file.
